


I Will Always Be Here For You, Sherlock

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly feels, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Gen, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feels, it's all about the feels. </p><p>John catches Sherlock after he'd been using. Mycroft makes it all ok. And Mrs. Hudson helps, of course</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Always Be Here For You, Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr
> 
> Warning for possible triggers guys but nothing major

Sherlock paced around the room, angry, enraged. He fell to the floor by the fireplace and curled up in a ball. 

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock couldn't hear him, he could never hear him, not when it mattered. 

“Sherlock!”

It wasn't the sound of his name that alerted him it was the slap to the face. 

“Bleurgh- John.”

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?”

“Ah, thinking.”

“Thinking?! Thinking! Are you high?”

Sherlock stood up and stumbled slightly. He grabbed the mantle to steady himself, “Of course not, John, don't be an idiot!”

The doctor snatched the packet of cocaine from the chair - his chair - and turned around, sighing to himself. 

“You were on a case Sherlock, a case! You have no need for this anymore!”

“Why don't I?” Sherlock was suddenly mad again, his fists clenched, even though he couldn't stand upright unaided. 

“You said you're addicted to one of two things. Cases or cocaine. You have a case!”

“That's not what I'm addicted to, John.”

“You're right, you're addicted to being a pompous prick!” He turned on his heel and stormed back out the flat. 

Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to hide his true emotion from nobody in the room. Why did John never understand?!

He curled back into his ball again, trying to not think of the enigma that was John Watson. 

Why was the case not important anymore? Had it ever been important? He decided it hadn't. What did it matter who was the murderer? It wouldn't change anything, so they'd be in a cell for a while, so was he when he broke into apartments and houses when he was bored or for a case. Again, back to the case. He knew there was something… always something. He closed his eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep. 

He was awakened several hours later by a very worried Mrs. Hudson. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, dear, come on, wake up.”

His eyes snapped open. “Mrs- Mrs. Hudson?”

“Yes, dear, it's me.”

Sherlock's eyes hurt. Was it even possible for eyes to hurt? He leant back and threw his head into the sofa. “Where's John?” He croaked. 

“Told me he was going to the lovely lady friend of his from work, Sally? Sue? Sarah?”

“Sarah, Mrs. Hudson, definitely Sarah and not Sally.”

“Sherlock, have you been using again? You know to come to me when you feel this way.”

“What is the point?! What is the point of going to you? Or John? Or my dickhead of a brother? What will it change?! Why do you even care?”

Mrs. Hudson sighed and took a seat on the sofa next to the younger man and pulled his head over so he could rest it in her lap. He protested for a minute, but then relaxed into it. 

“What did you say to me the day of your mother's funeral?”

Sherlock shook his head. 

“Come on, Sherlock, what did you say?”

“I promised you that I wouldn't use anymore. I would talk to you. Or Mycroft.”

“And why did you say that?” 

This time she wasn't expecting an answer, she was expecting what happened. Sherlock suddenly sobbed and turned his head into her knee. Sherlock had spent a long time while his mother had been ill being high. Mycroft had found him in a doss house the night before she died and had forced him into the hospital. He made him sit there all night, despite being off his head, knowing that their mother didn't have long left. He'd been right, of course he had, she'd died the following morning. Sherlock had spent a very long time resenting Mycroft for putting him in rehab and only ever used as a way to spite him now. That thought alone made him sob harder. His landlady dropped both her hands into his hair. “Shh,” she whispered. She leant over and pulled him up onto the chair beside her. He cuddled in, choking on his sobs as his breath kept hitching. “What do you want to do now?”

Sherlock said something she never imagined him saying. 

“I want Mycroft.” She smiled sadly at the top of his head. 

When Mycroft walked in, all suits and arrogance, his face immediately fell as he noticed his baby brother curled up on the sofa, his head in Mrs. Hudson's lap. 

“Sherlock?” 

The detective's tear stained face snapped up. 

“Mycie.” He swung his legs around, but Mycroft had already moved to sit the other side of him. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his brother's chest. “I'm sorry, Myc, I'm really sorry.” 

The government official glanced at Mrs. Hudson who had got to her feet and mouthed ‘What?’

She shook her head slightly and made her way through to the kitchen. 

“I let you down, Myc,” he answered the unvocalised question. “I let Mummy down.”

Mycroft had immediately seen that Sherlock had used, but he seemed to be coming out of it now, for him to be like this. At that point he obviously believed what he was saying, but he couldn't bring himself to disagree with the younger man. 

“It'll be fine Sherlock, it'll all be fine.”

“John's gone.”

“Gone where?”

“I don't know. He came back last night… and then I don't remember where he went. He was just gone when I woke up.”

“He's with Sarah,” Mrs. Hudson reminded him as she entered the room with a tray. 

“See?” He choked. “He doesn't want to be here anymore.”

“Oh, baby brother.” Mycroft sighed and held him tightly. “I don't believe that for a second. Doctor Watson thrives on living here. With you. And whether he's here or not, I am. And I always will be.”

Sherlock choked out yet more sobs, his tears running tracks down Mycroft's suit jacket. He couldn't bring himself to care though. 

“Mrs. Hudson, would you mind locating the good doctor. Apologise for whatever it was that Sherlock said yesterday.”

“Of course.”

Mycroft held Sherlock's super sweet tea to his lips as he sipped at it, not willing to release his bone crushing hold on the older man. 

It seemed like forever passed before John came home. He took one step into the flat and paused where he was. He was about to make some sarcastic remark when he saw the state of his best friend and the look of worry on Mycroft's face. 

He took a few more steps that brought him to a meter or so from the Holmes brothers. “Sherlock?” He dropped to his knees beside them.

“You were wrong, John. I'm not addicted to a case or cocaine.”

The doctor shook his head. He clearly was. 

“I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong John, you're so wrong.” The detective peeked at him from around his brother, red rimmed eyes prominent. “I'm addicted to you.”


End file.
